Catch the Wind
by ardhrianna
Summary: Draco muses about the relationship he wishes he had with Harry.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. Warner Brothers and J.K. Rowling own him. I may claim a stake in any clones of Lucius Malfoy, but that's about it. This is FICTION, by the way. FANfiction. But we know that, being on this site, no? :)  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Been a while since I posted on ff.net! My computer has crashed on me TWICE since I last posted, so two new chapters of "Bronwe" were lost and I just haven't had the energy to retype them. So I said "screw it!" and wrote a Harry Potter fic. My first HP slash, too! Go me. I have another one in the works and it's 90% done. Just needs a run by my beta.  
  
DEDICATION: Mary (RandomSlytherin3) for her beta, and to Kris, just because. The title of this story comes from an Irish Descendants song of the same name.  
  
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CATCH THE WIND  
  
  
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Oil and water.  
  
Night and day.  
  
Black and white.  
  
Harry and Draco.  
  
Opposites attract, I suppose. Although that comes nowhere near explaining our twisted relationship. We started out hating each other - the worst sort of mortal enemies. And now he's lying next to me in bed, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he belongs there. For tonight, he does. But when the sun rises and he finally wakes up, things will change back to how they were before. He'll become the good little Gryffindor again and I'll slink back into the shadows of Slytherin House. Back to watching him like the lovesick fool I am.  
  
I don't pretend that he loves me. I know he doesn't... the nights he's not in *my* bed, he's in either the Mudblood's or in the Weasel's. Nobody ever accused The Boy Who Lived of being faithful, that's for sure. And I take it. I sit back and take his sleeping around, his distant attitudes, his brush-offs. I feed on what little attention he DOES give me like a starving dog begging at the hand of my master.  
  
How far the mighty have fallen.  
  
I am a Malfoy, not some sniveling lapdog! My father would beat me if he were to ever find out where my current desires lie. It's bad enough Crabbe and Goyle caught me talking to Granger in the hall after Potions the other day. Of course, it was all innocent - it was about homework and she *is* a Mudblood after all - but they obviously didn't see it that way. Within hours my father had sent a nasty little note, warning me to be more careful about who I was seen with. Sometimes I wonder who Grabbe and Coyle are watching more closely - the other students or me. One day, I will give those two their just rewards, but not right now. I still have uses for them.   
  
The unfortunate part of being Pureblood is that there are so few of us, those that are left tend to band together, forming these unholy alliances. For after all, I am a Malfoy and I am expected to continue the long friendship of our familes, no matter what I may think. I laugh to think of what Crabbe and Goyle would say about my relationship with Potter. They'd be horrified, to say the least, if the shock of it didn't kill them first. It would almost be worth it to out myself to them just to see their reactions. But I'm not stupid enough to think that Potter would appreciate that very much. He'd probably kill me if I did that. Nothing will be allowed to mar his perfect image, especially a clandestine relationship with another man. A Slytherin man, to make it even worse.  
  
But none of that matters now, when the sun hasn't yet risen above the horizon and he's still asleep at my side. I can almost pretend that this is normal. Healthy. I can imagine that nobody exists in this world except him and me, and he'll stay here forever. But my hopes for forever are dashed when his eyelashes flutter and the first hint of green appears. He's awake, and now everything will go back to the way it was. There are so many times I wish that would change, but it never will. I don't know why I set myself up for this every time. Father told me once I'm a slut for pain and it must be true. Why else would I let this happen?  
  
Wordlessly, Potter gets up and throws on the clothes we so hurridly discarded the night before. Not even sparing me a glance, he walks out of the room, back to Gryffindor tower and back to his normal life.  
  
"I love you..." I whisper to his shadow as he leaves. Someday, I wish I would hear those words whispered back to me.  
  
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.  
  
/END 


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